Couldn't Care Less, Couldn't Care More
by Final Frontier Voyager
Summary: My version of what should have happened after S6 finale. Fix fic with angel whump.


**Hello everyone. This is my take on what should have happened after S6 finale. I know it's a bit overdue since S7 has already started and events turned a very unpleasant way (NO! CAS! WHY?). I've written it and wanted to post it before the premiere, but I'm failed, sorry. Still I hope you will enjoy it.**

**About the story: it's heavy angst, which is strange because I hardly ever write angst, but the S6 finale didn't leave me much choice if I wanted to fix things. I hope I didn't mess up too badly.**

**Warnings: may be abusive to Christians. However, if you're watching Supernatural, you probably don't mind things like that...**

**Thanks to InsideYourDreams24 for beta-reading. Here you go!**

Couldn't care less, couldn't care more

"I'm your new god; a better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you."

Deep silence followed the angel's words, so deep Dean wondered if he had ever heard a silence like this. For a couple of seconds he couldn't even believe Castiel had just said that, but the utter dismay on both Bobby's and Sam's faces practically told him it was real.

And at that moment Dean realized they had lost him.

Whatever effect those millions of souls had on Castiel, the hunter could only feel how immensely distant the angel was now; how out of reach, how different from his old self, who even used to stand up against his own kind to stick with the humans. It was simply not him anymore.

However, it was not Castiel declaring himself God that made Dean feel that way.

'_I have no family.'_The words Castiel said earlier were still echoing in the hunter's mind, and they _hurt._ Even though Dean's trust in him was broken, deep inside he was still considering him a brother, still hoping they could fix their friendship. But as the angel said these words, Dean realized he had just torn the bond between them deliberately. If Sam had said something like this, he would be hurt of course, but he would know it was only his brother's need to show pride and defiance, and that it would pass in time. Cas, on the other side, was absolutely serious. They knew the angel never said anything he wasn't serious about; never joked and never used words for manipulation. This shit was _bloody real._

"Easy, boy," Bobby's voice interrupted the silence; the old hunter was the first to recover from the shock. "There's no need to smite us. We're on your side, remember?"

Castiel slowly turned his gaze to him. "You're afraid," he stated simply, "Now that I've got power. But you were not afraid at all to trap me in a circle of fire back then when I wasn't this strong."

_This is not Cas,_ a voice in Dean's head kept telling him. Those souls from purgatory are messing with his head. They had to get them out of the angel as soon as possible.

"We never turned our back on you Cas," Sam seemed to find his voice as well. "You were the one that chose a demon over us."

The angel's gaze wandered to the younger Winchester. For a couple of second he just stared at him with narrowed eyes as if he was thinking about something. "I promised you something Sam," he said finally, starting to walk towards him slowly.

Dean knew this was the point he should interfere, jump between the angel and his brother, stop Castiel from whatever he was about to do, but somehow his legs didn't seem to obey. He just kept standing there, still in deep shock, looking on with wide eyes as the distance between the other two reduced gradually.

"You stop right there." Bobby's voice finally broke the silence as the old hunter did the thing Dean was unable to do; stepping between Sam and Castiel.

The angel stopped in his track, looking at the old hunter with his usual tilted head; his gaze cold and unreadable. "There's no need to worry. I will help him."

"Don't you even dare touch him again." Bobby warned him with an uplifted index finger, sounding very much like a pissed father scolding a son, but Dean knew he has never been more serious in his life.

Castiel merely looked down and sighed, actually _sighed_sadly. "You leave no choice for me," he said before making a small, almost irritated movement with his hand and a moment later Bobby was pushed sideways by an invisible force that carried and dropped him rather gently at the corner of the room.

Sam looked on wide eyed, following the old hunter with his gaze, but he never got up, and the younger Winchester looked back at Castiel accusingly. "You…!"

"He's alive," the angel stated plainly. "Sam, I'm sorry you had to go through all of this. All I wanted was to help, and I did not intend to cause you any harm. I'm also sorry for letting your memories of Hell loose, but now that I have the power, I can make everything right."

"Cas, please," Sam lifted his hands as the angel came even closer. "Let's just talk about this. I don't think you should…"

At that moment Castiel's outstretched hand reached Sam's face and the angel pressed his palm on the man's forehead.

"No!" A single shout escaped Dean's throat.

Sam gasped loudly as both his and Castiel's eyes closed; at the same time a trail of light appeared at the angel's hand, engulfing it and flowing down on his arm until it disappeared into his chest. The whole procedure didn't last longer than five seconds, and as the final traces of light died out on the trench coat Sam's legs gave out and he would surely have collapsed if Castiel hadn't caught him in the last moment. They stood there in an odd embrace for another five seconds or so before life started to return to Sam. He coughed and squirmed and tore himself out of the angel's arms, being able to stand on his own again.

"Sam!" Dean shouted and his legs suddenly seemed to remember what they were made for, allowing the hunter to rush to his brother. "Sam, you okay?"

The younger Winchester looked at him wide eyed. "Dean I'm… I'm fine. I don't know how…" He couldn't continue as he was pulled into a tight hug by Dean.

"He is whole now." Castiel explained. "I took his memories of Hell and repaired the cracks on his soul."

Dean let go of Sam and looked at the angel just in time not to miss him staggering a little.

"Cas…"

"I keep my promises, Dean. I told you; I will be a better god."

"Yes Cas, and I just have no idea how to thank you. But now that you saved Sam… you really don't need all this power anymore."

"As I said earlier, Raphael…"

"I know," Dean interrupts, "you want to punish his followers. But look into yourself, are you completely sure this is the right thing to do? To use your might to kill? Is this making you a better god?"

Castiel winced. "I killed Balthazar, my own friend, because he has betrayed me. Do you think I will spare my enemies' lives after that?"

"Shouldn't a good god be able to show mercy?" Dean pushed further.

The angel's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you worrying about them, or about me Dean Winchester?"

He barely finished the sentence when suddenly he staggered again, almost losing his balance this time.

"Who the hell cares about a couple of dickhead angels?" Dean shouted and hurried to the angel, grabbing the collar of the trench coat. "What is wrong with you?"

Castiel looked down on his arm. "Let go of me Dean," he said calmly. "These memories are terrible, Sam. I'm glad they don't haunt you anymore."

He gasped loudly this time and collapsed on one knee with hands clutching at his chest.

"See, Cas?" Dean called out desperately, catching the angel's arm. "I told you. You have to get rid of the souls. You can't control them!"

"It's not them," Castiel panted, "the memory is interfering… and now…"

"Now what?" Dean yelled.

The angel grabbed his arm in response and looked up at him; and the hunter was shocked to see a glimpse of fear in his widened eyes. "Something's coming."

Dean barely had the time to comprehend the words as a giant earthquake shook the room right after that. He could see from the corner of his eyes that Sam and Bobby were thrown against the walls; but he was holding onto Castiel who seemed to remain the only solid point in the shaking room.

"Get away from me!" The angel shouted and gave Dean a push which resulted in the hunter flying through the air and hitting the wall right beside Sam, just as a blinding whiteness started to light up the room, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. As Dean recovered and put his arm in front of his face to shield his eyes, the last thing he saw was Castiel still kneeling in the middle of the room, looking somewhere upwards, and the light was surrounding him like a swirling vortex.

* * *

><p>When he opened his eyes next, the light was gone and the room was engulfed in semi-darkness again. For a moment he thought the angel was gone, but then he spotted him lying on his back on the table as if he was just about to undergo a surgery.<p>

"Cas?"

He looked around but found no one else besides the four of them in the room. "Cas!" He shouted again and got up to hurry to the angel but he barely made a step or two when an invisible force pushed him back to the wall.

"What the…"

"Please, Dean, don't make this any harder than it already is."

The voice that came somewhere from their right didn't belong to Castiel. It was a bit higher and a lot smoother and as the brothers turned their heads in its direction, they were taken aback by the sight of the young, teenage-looking boy that was standing in the door, leaning lazily on the frame with one side.

"And who might you be?" Dean spits with his usual arrogant tone. The least they needed was another stuck-up, boss-wannabe angel to deal with right now.

The boy merely smirked, of course if a slight upward curl in the corner of his mouth could be called that.

"Hello Dean," he nodded towards him, "Sam, Bobby."

Just at the moment his name was spoken, Bobby opened his eyes and sat up, staring around confusedly.

"I'm sorry you're still here. I do not have the need for you to witness this. If you wish so, I can send you back home."

"What the hell are you talking about? Witness what? And above all, you still haven't said who the fuck you are."

"_Dean, stop._"

The voice that came from the far end of the room was familiar, but the sadness and tiredness filling it wasn't. Dean looked back and his eyes met Castiel's. The angel, still lying on the table, had turned his head in order to be able to look at him, and that made Dean realize he was also immobilized.

"It's him."

The desperation and sadness radiating from both his eyes and voice hit Dean in the heart, but he still didn't understand. Turning back he met Sam's shocked expression, and the younger hunter asked slowly and carefully, "Him, as with a big H?"

Realization slowly dawned on Dean. _It can't be,_he thought. _He doesn't care. Doesn't care about humans, demons, even angels; doesn't care about Heaven, Hell, war, life, death…_

"You're right Dean," the boy said, answering to the hunter's thoughts, "and wrong at the same time."

He pushed himself away from the doorframe and started walking slowly towards the middle of the room where Castiel was still lying on the table; upon seeing him, the angel tried desperately to move, to get up, but all he managed to do was trembling pitifully.

"Ssh, stay still, Castiel. I'll deal with you in a moment."

His voice had a caring and tender tone to it, which didn't escape Dean's attention.

"God…" the hunter said the word with hesitation, "Is that really you?"

There was something aristocratic in how the boy walked, looked at them and smiled. "Yes… I think I'm the one you refer to as God, in most points of view."

Dean simply felt like he was left without words. In his head, he had played the scenario a million times before; what he would say to God if he met him one day. Blame him, demand answers, shout profanities; but at this moment, he couldn't recall a single word.

"Is that… a vessel? You're possessing people too?" He stuttered out finally.

The boy's eyes narrowed only a little; he was still half smiling and Dean suddenly realized his expression looked very much like the one Castiel had been wearing a couple of minutes ago, when he thought he had become God.

"It's not like I couldn't create a body for myself any time I wanted to," he said, "but this boy is currently in a coma, and I promised to heal him in exchange for a small favor."

Questions swirled in Dean's head; he didn't even know which one to ask first.

"Okay, so are you staying or leaving?" God asked again. "I can send you all back to Singer Salvage, I know that's the place you most-"

"What are you going to do to him?" Sam interrupted him, pointing at Castiel.

"We're not going without him," Dean added, ignoring the fact that he probably sounded like a stubborn child.

"Somehow, I had a feeling you were going to say that." God said, his smile widening a little. "And to answer to you, Sam, I will do exactly what you wished, and what is needed to be done. Get those souls back to where they belong."

He walked back slowly to the table Castiel was lying on. The angel was shivering and his feverish gaze was fixed on the man that called himself God. His eyes were full of unsaid pleas.

"Hush, my child," God spoke once again with that smooth and tender tone which made Dean unable to decide whether he should puke or run up to him and hug him. "No need for words, I know all your thoughts and feelings. And I forgive you."

"Why?" The question didn't come from Castiel; it came from Dean. "Why do you care now? You never cared about any of us. Hell, you never even cared about the Apocalypse. Yet you brought him back from the dead twice."

Dean wanted to put as much blame as he could into his words, but he found there was none in them, only desperation and helplessness.

God didn't look up to meet his eyes; his gaze was still fixed on the lying angel as he answered. "Can't you see? Castiel is one of the purest of my creatures. He's like me and you at the same. There's no one else that combines humans' features and mine up to this level. This is why he's so close to both me and you."

With that, he lifted both of his hands, putting one to Castiel's forehead, the other to his chest. "I'm sorry, child."

The next moment a blinding light appeared at the angel's chest, seemingly coming out of him; and Castiel screamed out so painfully it made Dean wince. The light finally departed from the angel's body and vibrated for a couple more seconds in God's hand before dying out completely.

"What was that?"

"About half a million souls," God answered, with eyes gleaming in gold. "They're with me now."

The brothers and Bobby exchanged glances. The silence felt deep and dead again, only Castiel's ragged breaths were heard in the room.

"Well no offense," Dean started, "but as far as I see, you did just the same as Cas, absorbing those damn souls. How does that make you different from him?"

God finally looked up and stared the hunter right in the eye with a serious face. "You're full of questions and doubts, Dean. I understand that. So are you, I know," he went on, looking at Sam and Bobby, one after the other. "And since you've chosen to stay and observe, I might as well give answers to you until I finish with him. First of all, I _am_different. I'm nothing like you or Castiel, or any of the angels, archangels included. In fact, Raphael for example, had more in common with you than with me."

He put his hand back on Castiel's chest, and the angel screamed again, his torso slightly elevating from the table but unable to move more. The boy that called himself God waited until the light in his palm died out once more before continuing.

"Still, all of you have been materialized through me and by me; meaning you're nothing more than a little of me, kneaded together with flesh and bones and wings and blood. This is why I can see everything about you, because I can see right down to the deepest of your souls. I know every thoughts, feelings and fears of you. And I know that right now you're wondering why I'm turning my back and ignore everything that happened on Earth, Heaven or Hell; especially these times."

"It's not just us," Sam spoke. "There're six billion other people, sharing so much suffering. War, diseases, starving… people are dying, innocent people, children…"

To the surprise of all three of them, God suddenly chuckled. "Oh Sam, always the sentimental one, aren't you?"

"You find this funny?" Dean demanded, anger finally overcoming his desperation.

"No." The boy answered simply, then turned his attention back to Castiel. Another knot of light appearing, another heart-wrenching angel scream; another half a million souls.

"Please," Dean said softly, almost whispering, after the last trace of light went out along with Castiel's cry. "Can't you make him suffer less?"

God looked up at him again and this time Dean saw honest regret in his still glowing eyes. "I'm sorry. He's already feeling only about one tenth of the pain he would originally feel."

Dean fell silent for a couple of seconds, staring at Castiel, pale and panting, lying on that table so vulnerable and helpless it made the hunter's heart sink. He felt like it had happened ages ago, in another universe that the angel had declared himself God and threatened to destroy them all.

"But… aren't you almighty?" He realized how childish this question must have sounded only after he said it out loud.

It must have occurred to God as well because he just rolled his eyes. "I know what you mean, Dean. I could just make him sleep and wake up the next morning, not remembering anything about this. But he would still be him, he would make the same choices, the same decisions and it would eventually lead him here as well."

"He wouldn't have to face the same situation." Dean insisted. "Raphael's dead, there's no more alpha dog he would have to defeat. Wait… you're not planning to bring back that asshole are you?"

There was a small movement in the corner of the boy's mouth, as if he was stifling a smile. "No, I do not. But other things may happen that would force him to make decisions again, and eventually he would be standing at the same spot. It's not about the possibilities, it's in his nature, do you understand that? He has to go down this path; he has to go all through this."

"You're punishing him so that he'll learn," Dean established. "Like a…" He searched for the right word but couldn't find any. He didn't even know how he was feeling about this; disappointed, maybe. This God in front of him was a punishing one, not a helping one.

"Father." God nodded as he ended the hunter's sentence. "And if you let me finish…"

He waited for Dean or the others to interrupt again, but they remained silent. The boy then pulled another bunch of light out of the lying angel, causing him to scream out again, but his movements were a bit more hurrying this time; and Dean didn't know whether he had tried to abbreviate Castiel's pain or just wanted to continue the talk as soon as possible.

"I didn't create the world to be perfect. I didn't make people equal. It's because to me they're all equal, and the world couldn't have been created otherwise. Good and bad – they're just words, Dean. Words invented by people. They needed to invent them in order to be able to tell one thing from the other. But, as you might agree with me on this, everything's relative. Not only things like beauty and ugly, but even the most basic things, like what's right and what's wrong. Maybe you're still agreeing on this, but I go even further, because on the words 'right' and 'wrong' I mean the most obvious things now. Do you think sleeping is good, for example? Or committing a crime is bad? It's also relative."

He paused and waited for almost a minute, walking around Castiel's trembling form leisurely.

"If I made the world without pain, war and diseases, you people would also have had to distinguish things, feelings and everything around you, and they would still be declared either good or bad. And bad things would make you suffer all the same. Do you think it couldn't be worse? Well let me tell you something: it could. Sometimes I just wonder how you even dare to complain without having the slightest idea how up on the scale this world is."

Dean felt stricken at these words. He found he could simply not argue with them. And not because it was actually God talking to him, but he realized it was all so logical. _All so damn logical._

"You see now why there's no point in removing anything you consider bad from the world. This is why it looks like I don't care, like I'm turning my back and ignoring it all, even the Apocalypse. I created the world but it doesn't need me anymore, because everything's working, and if by working you mean the Apocalypse is going to happen, so be it. The strongest one survives; if it's like this on the level of the most primitive beings, why wouldn't it be like this on the uppermost levels of life?"

He arrived back to his starting point behind the table. As there was no one speaking up, he lifted his hands again, and Dean had to close his eyes and turn his head once more to avoid the sight of his suffering friend, though Castiel's screams of agony couldn't be blocked out of his ears and mind.

"You're not the God people believe in," Dean muttered, the tone of his voice carrying a hint of disdain. "They believe in benevolence and helpfulness and love. But you're rather just neutral."

"I know." God nodded without the smallest sign of anger or indignation. "They created themselves a god they wanted to have. And it's not only Christianity; it's the same with all the other religions that have a god. Christianity has nothing more to do with me than all the other ones. But let's not get into this."

"Wait," Sam suddenly spoke, "if you don't care about anything, why did you promise this… boy to heal him in exchange for using him as a vessel?"

God smiled, and this time it felt like there was warmth in his smile. Dean didn't know what to think.

"The fact that I'm indifferent doesn't mean I don't do a little good here and there."

"You're full of contradictions," Dean established.

"Contradiction to you," the boy suddenly tilted his head very much like Castiel used to, "but to me, it's harmony."

He put his hand on the lying angel's chest again and pulled out another mass of light, standing Castiel's struggling cry without a blink. Dean didn't miss how the angel's voice was getting weaker with each group of souls and worry started to rise in him besides the compassion.

"But he's different," he said quietly after the room had fallen silent again. "You care about Cas."

"Yes." God answered simply. "I've said before why. I want to spare him, but I have to leave a mark deep enough for him to never forget."

"So you're saving him to punish him," Dean spat.

"No." The quiet voice belonged to Sam this time. "He's punishing him to save him."

"Dean." A voice even softer broke the hunter's shocked silence. It was Castiel; he had finally torn his gaze from God and was looking at Dean now. "It… has to be… done."

"Cas," Dean was only able to speak one word; his voice broke and tears dwelled up in his eyes upon seeing the angel like this. And it wasn't just the pain he endured, but also the yielding; because the older Winchester now clearly saw that Castiel actually believed he completely deserved it.

The hunter felt ultimately drained of words. He didn't have anything left to say. Apparently God didn't have either; he remained silent as he extracted another handful of light from the shaking Castiel, putting his other hand calmingly on the angel's forehead as he rode out the wave of pain accompanying the departure of the souls.

And it kept going on and on; lights upon lights, millions upon millions of souls, screams upon screams. God kept about half a minute long pauses, and later, whole minute long ones to let Castiel catch his breath and rest a little before the next round. It felt like it was never going to stop, and in the end Dean was just _tired;_ tired of the screams, of having to watch Castiel suffer, his body tense and his back arch each time; of seeing God perform this all so naturally without even blinking an eye; and most of all, of himself being unable to put an end to the angel's pain.

He didn't know when it all stopped, or how much time must have passed; minutes, maybe hours, as his brain told him; months, maybe years, as his heart did. He barely even registered that for the last couple of lights flashing up there hadn't been a scream following it anymore.

God finally moved away from Castiel, taking a sole step backwards, the sound of it echoing through the now silent room. Dean snapped out of his daze and looked up, his eyes immediately finding the angel who was now lying completely still, with an impossibly pale face. Even despite God's previous promise, the hunter's heart skipped a beat; but then yes, there was a weak rise of Castiel's chest, indicating he was still alive.

"He's done," the boy announced, and to Dean's surprise, there was actually emotion in his voice: sadness, compassion, maybe even a little bit of love.

It took Dean a great effort to tear his gaze from the angel's unmoving form and look God in the eye. He wanted to say something expressing his disappointment and disdain, but instead he asked, "Can I go to him now?"

God's mouth curved into a faint smile. "Come, Dean." He said, even reaching his arm in an inviting gesture.

The hunter took a tentative step forwards and found that the invisible barrier had disappeared; he was once again free to move around.

"I assume you would like to go home now."

"Is he gonna be all right?" Dean didn't even hear him.

"Yes, he is."

These were the last words the hunter heard from God. As he hurried towards the table, the place suddenly changed, and the next thing he realized was that he was standing nowhere else than in the middle of Bobby's slightly musty living room. It was the smoothest teleport he had ever experienced; with Cas he always felt (rather uncomfortably) that he was the one moving to the place, but now it felt like the place had come to him.

Speaking of Castiel; he was nowhere to be seen anymore, as if he had vanished along with the metal table, as if the whole of it had been a dream. Dean couldn't even decide whether he should be glad if it had really been just a dream, but the absence of his hurt angel had unsettled him to a level he didn't even bother to think about it.

"Cas?"

He got no respond. "Sam? Bobby?"

"We're here," his brother's voice came from behind his back. Sam and Bobby were sitting at the other side of the room, leaning against the wall just like they did in the other room.

"What the… I'm home!" Bobby growled in surprise as they carefully got up from the floor.

"Cas? Where the hell is he?" Dean frantically looked around, scanning the room wildly for any sign of the angel. "Now what good was that?" He yelled up to the ceiling. "Sending us back but leaving him there alone, you bastard!"

"Dean," Sam softly called.

"What?"

"The couch," the younger Winchester said, pointing a finger at something behind the sofa.

Dean stared at him stupidly for a moment, then strode through the room to get a look behind it; and there he was greeted with the sight he hoped to see since they re-appeared at Bobby's. Castiel was lying there on the carpet, pale and still and in the same position as previously on the table.

"Cas!"

The hunter was kneeling by his side in less than a second, pushing a finger to his neck to check for pulse. To his great relief, there was one, weak but rapid, and he was also breathing all right, maybe a bit shallow because his chest barely seemed to rise.

"He's okay!" Dean reported to Sam with poorly hidden joy in his voice. "Help me lift him."

Just as Sam had managed to get his long limbs to the tiny space between Castiel and the back of the sofa, the angel suddenly stirred.

"Cas?" Dean squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him more alert.

Castiel sluggishly opened his eyes and turned his head, looking at the ceiling, the walls and finally at the hunter. His gaze was unfocused and Dean was sure he didn't have a clue about where he was right now.

"Hey there," he greeted the dazed angel.

"Dean." Castiel rasped out weakly, almost whispering. He certainly couldn't stop his eyes swimming in and out of focus and he was definitely making an effort to actually keep them open. "Why am I…?"

"It's okay, it's over," the older Winchester hurried to calm him. "No more souls. You're clean and safe, see? We're at Bobby's."

"I should be…" The angel didn't, or couldn't finish the sentence.

"You should be lying on something more comfortable than the floor, I agree," Dean finished it for him. "We're getting you up. Can you move?"

"S'ppose so…"

Judging by the strength of his voice, Dean considered it an overestimation without a second thought. He nodded to Sam who carefully took hold of Castiel's other shoulder, and together they hoisted him up all the way to his feet. The angel's legs buckled immediately at the slightest weight and he tilted vehemently against Sam but the brothers hardened their grip on him and kept him upright.

"Whoa," he breathed and blinked repeatedly as his vision swam and blurred. For a moment he felt like he was about to pass out again but somehow he managed to remain conscious. It felt strange though. He couldn't really feel his body, as if it wasn't his own; technically it wasn't, but he even lost that feeling of control he had all the time while inhabiting Jimmy Novak's cells. His head was the worst; it felt light and weightless and he also lost the sense of balance completely. He distantly remembered Dean describing this state as dizziness.

Despite his uncooperative legs, Sam and Dean somehow managed to carry him around the couch and as they lowered him onto it, he fell onto the soft furniture like a rag-doll.

"Bring some water," Dean commanded his brother, and Sam hurried to obey.

"Cas?"

The angel's closed eyes fluttered open again, struggling to gain focus and finding Dean's face eventually.

"I don't understand," he rasped out.

"What?"

"I should be dead."

Dean felt more than shocked upon these words, but he didn't have time to question; Sam came back with a glass of water and the older Winchester held it to Castiel's mouth. The angel drank about two gulps, rather instinctively before turning his head and blinking heavily.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked after putting the glass on the table.

"Light," Castiel murmured an answer. The brothers exchanged a look. "There were all those souls before… now it feels empty…"

His eyes closed once again. "What does he mean?" Dean turned to Sam.

The younger hunter shrugged. "There've been millions in his vessel, and now he's alone as I take it; must be feeling quite spacious."

Castiel's eyes opened again and he turned his head, searching the room for something. His gaze finally fell on the glass on the table and he flung an arm in an attempt to grab it, but missed it by inches and shoved a couple of books to the floor instead.

"Whoa, easy there," Dean caught his flailing hand and gently put it back onto his chest. "I'll get it for you, you just have to ask."

Castiel nodded absently. It was clear he still hadn't regained control over his body after the souls had been cleared out of him; his eyes were still swimming in and out of focus, his pupils disturbingly dilated and he was undoubtedly lightheaded and dizzy despite the horizontal position. If Dean didn't know better, he would have thought he was high.

The angel drank a lot more this time, almost emptying the whole glass. The effort seemed to drain him; as soon as he was finished his head fell back on the pillow and his eyes closed. He murmured something like 'don't want to' under his nose but he never got to finish the sentence as he drifted off to sleep or unconsciousness.

"We should leave him to rest," Sam suggested and Dean nodded, staring at Castiel's pale face and listening to his shallow breathing. He still doubted, despite what God had said, that his friend will ever get back to normal. Physically, maybe, but how will he be ever able to get over it in his mind?

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry Dean."<p>

It had already been three days since Castiel stood in the middle of Bobby's living room, facing the older Winchester. _He still sucks at goodbyes,_Dean thought with dark humor as he fumbled with his cell, selecting Castiel's number over and over for about the thousandth time but never pushing the call button.

He needed his time.

When Castiel regained consciousness a couple of hours later that they let him sleep on the couch, he didn't talk at first. He just stood up as if it was the most natural things in the world and turned around to observe his surroundings, and his gaze eventually fell on Dean who was thumbing through some ancient book at Bobby's desk.

Their eyes met and Castiel merely said, "Goodbye Dean."

"Whoa, wait up," the hunter rose and hurried to him. To his surprise, the angel didn't leave, just stood there obediently, his gaze turned down to the floor. "You won't just fly off?"

"I have sinned, Dean," Castiel stated in a low voice, still staring downwards. "And my sin is the worst possible of all. I betrayed Him."

"Yeah, and you've had your punishment."

"No I haven't." The angel finally lifted his gaze to look Dean in the eye. "I've been rescued, actually for the third time, from perdition; I haven't been punished."

"So…" The older Winchester asked tentatively, "where do you plan to go now?"

"I have to seek redemption." Castiel answered with more self confidence.

"What does that mean? You go visit sacred places?"

"Something like that."

"Couldn't you just stay? For a bit at least?"

The angel cast his eyes downward again. "When an angel does something like that, it's way beyond forgiveness. I'm trash; what I've become is nothing better than Lucifer himself. But He's still forgiven me. I can't just come to terms with that. It's like… I'm shattered, and I have to find what's left of me. I can't expect you to understand…"

"I do." Dean said softly, and he wasn't lying. He felt exactly the same after torturing all those souls in Hell.

"I'm sorry Dean," Castiel said after a couple of seconds of silence. "I'm truly sorry for betraying you, and for everything."

Dean saw he was about to go. "Cas," he called. The angel waited obediently again; something that was so unnatural of him. "If we're in trouble… if we need your help, can we call?"

The angel's mouth twitched as if he was trying to smile, but his eyes remained serious. "I'll always come to your aid whenever I can," he promised.

Another moment of silence, then Dean said, annoyed about how his voice broke despite his will. "Wish you luck."

And then the angel was gone.

Dean had replayed the conversation hundreds and hundreds of times in his head in the three days since Castiel's departure. He spent minutes of merely staring at the angel's number on his cell, playing with the thought of calling him, but he never did. He had no idea what to say to him once he picked up. He didn't even want to disturb him in his search for redemption.

One time in the future, the day would come when Castiel, _their_Castiel will come back to stand by their side again. One day, maybe it's not even that far away, they would face a dire situation when angelic help is inevitably needed, and then they will call him. Despite how tired of hunting Dean was, he longed for this day to come more than anything in his life.

And sooner or later, it will definitely come.

* * *

><p><strong>Because Team Free Will will be always and forever. Honestly, I'm simply just unable to accept that Cas is gone. He's never gone. Lol.<strong>

**Geez, it looks like I'll have to write another fix fic for S07E02. Wish I had the time for that now.**

**Anyway, tell me if you liked this story!**

**FFV  
><strong>


End file.
